In The Santa Carla Twilight
by no-rain-today
Summary: Michael and Sam head out to Santa Carla to escape their demons and end up falling in with some new ones, in the most literal sense.
1. Chapter 1

_Summary: Michael and Sam head out to Santa Carla to escape their demons and end up falling in with some new ones, in the most literal sense._

_(Inspired by a plethora of songs, some of which I may quote from time to time.)_

_Warnings: Some artistic liberties taken. _

* * *

The night was cool and dark and comforting as it covered their tracks. Frantic prayers and wishes had been sent up to the stars that they would make it alright and _good god weren't they there yet?_ Sam didn't vocalize his confusion with Michael, only hurriedly sucked down menthols when the older boy, relenting, stopped at dirty little gas stations every so often along the way.

They'd eaten very little since they'd left and now food just seemed unappealing. Sam cringed as Michael exited the diner, holding something steamy out to him.

"I'm not hungry." He took another drag, the smoke filling up his throat, practically tasteless.

"You should eat." Michael bummed the near-done cigarette and smoked the rest for himself and Sam took the wax paper package, picking hesitantly. "Come on, let's go."

It was then that the hunger chose to sneak back in and, as they walked swiftly across the parking lot, they scarf down the bits of bun and chilli and hot dog and wipe the spills on the knees of their pants.

They climbed on the worn-in bike, Sam slipping his arms around Michael's waist as he revved the engine up. Briefly, it drew Sam's mind to the beginning of their trip.

"_Are we both gunna __**fit **__on your bike? I could just hitchhike, you know," _he had said.

_Michael shook his head, slowly and, perhaps, grimly. "No," he said, coupling it with a look that added, 'you're too young for me to tell you what some kinds of people might want to do to you.'_

The wind whipped at them and Sam laid his head against his brother's back. Being off of his feet gave him time for the tiredness and antsy feeling to catch up, to drive his impatience and make him crave another smoke even though he'd just had one only moments before.

He just wanted _get there already_, for Michael to stop feeling so goddamn unsafe and nervous and to just be able to _breathe_…

After what could have been forever, a new type of anticipation surged up as they both took in the words, red paint faded on salt-warped wood, **Welcome to Santa Carla**.


	2. Chapter 2

_(Titled- and story- inspired by Tiger Army's **Santa Carla Twilight**. ...I should have credited this last chapter.)_

* * *

The scent of bonfires all along the beach were blown their way by the light, chilled breeze. Despite the late hour, the colorful lights of the boardwalk showed that many people were still out, the strains of a concert echoing from the beach.

They were hungry now, and worn down by their lack of sleep. Michael parked his bike in a place he hoped it wouldn't get jacked from, pocketing the key. They shouldered their bags, eyes darting.

There was a soft _chut-chut_ of a lighter and Michael instinctively reached back, fingers closing around the semi-crushed pack of cigarettes. They treaded slowly, having no place to go and therefore being in no hurry. They spoke intermittently, their words small bits and pieces easily swallowed up by the noise of the night.

"Do you feel that?" Michael asked, after seconds or hours of silence.

"Feel what?"

"I think that..." Michael trailed off, head moving to and fro, looking around and up and down and back and forth.

Sam gave his brother a contemplative look. "Do you think someone's following us?" His awareness of Michael's paranoia was instant.

Michael nodded, thinking vaguely that he sounded dumb and hoping to not get shit for it. Sam just stared at him for a moment, exhaling softly, his lips pursing around the air he blew out from his lungs.

"Did you actually _see_ anybody?" he asked, rationally.

Michael shrugged. "Yeah, maybe. I guess so." A pause, then another shrug. "It's more of a... feeling."

Sam nodded. Since they had arrived in Santa Carla he had that that slight, back-of-the-mind, _it feels like somebody's watching us_ feeling. He just chalked it up to the unofficial fact that the area they were in was known by the locals as the "Murder Capital of the World." He shrugged, unsure of how to console his brother. "There _could_ be someone watching us?" he offered apologetically.

"This area's known for some weird shit..." Michael said, more to himself than Sam though.

Sam took a moment, considering silently what could constitute as _'weird shit'_. He had never been a religious person, and believed only slightly in the stuff of supernatural legend. Fearing ghosts or gods just didn't go along with his modern school of thought.

Michael, on the other hand, was more superstitious. Again, not of a religious sort but Sammy could recant several occasions were Michael had spoken of 'presences' and had come home smelling of sage. On a more appropriate occasion, Sam would have joked and told him to quiet freebasing, but tonight he just couldn't draw forth a smart-alecky comment.

"...I hope we don't get mugged," was all he managed to say after a long while.

Michael let out a short bark of a laugh, placing a freshly-lit cigarette between his lips. "We don't have anything anybody would _want_," he tossed back, the creases in his features softening.

As they continued walking, it seemed that his paranoia was lifting. (Sam hoped so.)


End file.
